


Scopa!

by bellalinguista



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4735358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellalinguista/pseuds/bellalinguista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One evening, Angie teaches Peggy an old Italian card game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scopa!

“And this, sorry, is what again?”

“Geez, English, haven’t you been paying attention?”

“Oh, I have, but some of these images are very distracting. For instance, why does _this_ one have a face? Does it add any value to the card?”

“Are you talking about the three of _bastoni_?” Angie guessed, leaning forward and holding out her hand to receive the card. “Lemme see.”

The two of them sat upon a plush rug in the living room. On the floor between them was a bottle of schnapps, already a forth through, two matching nearly empty glasses, and a haphazard pile of cards – not just _any_ cards, for that matter. No, it was a deck of Italian playing cards - _carte Napoletane_ , Angie had informed – brought over by Nonna Martinelli on the ship from Italy itself.

And they were nothing like the cards with which Peggy was used to playing.

Plucking the card in question from her hand, Peggy handed it over to Angie for confirmation.

Angie nodded, “That’s the three of _bastoni_ all right.”

_Bastoni_ – clubs, one of the four suits found in the deck of forty playing cards, she easily recalled. Peggy took the card back from her to study the image again: three green, red, and yellow clubs, crisscrossing each other. In the point where all three met was the yellow head of a middle aged man with a rather impressive mustache. Perhaps, if given a good trim, it would even resemble Howard.

Lord knows there have been plenty of moments where a few clubs to the head would have sufficed in keeping him in line.

“But why does it have a head?” Peggy asked with a frown, trying to make sense of it all.

“We’re gonna be here all night if you keep asking why,” Angie pointed out as she rummaged through the messy pile for a particular card. She held it up for Peggy to see. “And what’s this?”

“That is the…” Peggy began, squinting her eyes. Blue swords, all pointing towards the middle where there was a row of leaves and flowers. Ah, a trick question. “The four of _spade_ ,” she replied with a bemused smirk, quite proud of herself.

With a grin, Angie nodded, “And what makes it different from the five of _spade_?”

“Instead of the flowers and leaves, there’s an actual sword,” Peggy pointed out. “And before you can ask, since I really think we should just get to playing: roughly the same can be said about the difference between the four and five of coins - _denari_ , as you call them. The difference there is a symbol of sorts. Can we play now?”

“ _Listen_ ,” Angie warned, picking up the bottle of schnapps to refill their glasses. “I don’t wanna have to stop the game to tell you the difference between the re and the _fante_.”

Peggy didn’t even try to hide her smirk as she took a swing of her glass, enjoying much more than just the sweet liquor. With a shrug of her shoulders, she tilted her head to the side and glanced up to the ceiling, feigning as though deep in thought.

“The king – sorry – the _re_ , normally has a crown and is worth ten,” Peggy replied teasingly. “The _fante_ , I believe, who is most definitely not the _re_ , is worth eight. And we shouldn’t leave out the _cavallo_ , should we? Those brave knights on their might steeds are worth nine. Did I forget anything?”

She watched as Angie’s lips thinned in slight annoyance; Peggy bit back a laugh.

“Put your money where your mouth is, English.”

“Something tells me you’d rather put _your_ -“

“The name of the game,” Angie spoke up; her interruption causing Peggy to raise an eyebrow in her direction (Peggy knew she was right, even before being rudely interrupted). “ _Scopa_.”

“Sweep,” Peggy translated watching as Angie nodded in confirmation, fishing all the cards into a single deck. Peggy handed the random cards she had in her hand over to Angie – nothing in particular: the two of _coppe_ – cups – and the six of _denari_. “Which earns you a point – sweeping the playing field,” Peggy added.

With all forty cards in her hands, Angie quickly shuffled the deck masterfully. It was rather impressive – a skill she learned from Nonna Martinelli, Angie would explain. It seemed that Nonna was a bit too competitive to play with the nearby neighbors, not the most gracious of winners, to say the least. They squeezed her out of the group, so she rounded up her grandchildren and made her own _scopa_ group.

If they wanted, they could easily wipe the floor with Nonna’s old group – Angie and her brothers, but it seems that Nonna’s banishment pertained to all Martinellis.

And they still were not entirely sure what Nonna had said to earn such treatment (“But whatever it was, they probably deserved it,” Angie shrugged).

The cards were dealt out: three a person and four, face up between the two of them.

Game on.

There would be no further talking since there was a prize on the line (one of Nonna’s strict rules): the winner would get their choice of a bottle of liquor – no stealing from Howard’s stash. Loser had to pay.

Now it was time for serious business.

Peggy studied the three cards in her hand, as well as the four in play. There was no match; the only thing she could do was throw the four of _bastoni_ down before allowing Angie to take her turn. With a _re_ of – Peggy didn’t catch the suit – Angie was able to pick up that four and a six of… _coppe_ , was it?

It wasn’t the best of starts, but it could be worse.

Her objective was simple: earn the most points possible. Easy enough, as were the rules. A point was given every time you _scopa_ ’d the playing field. A point for having the most sevens (“Why sevens?” “Just go along with it”). Another for the most _denari_ cards and one more for having the most cards overall. Oh, there was also a point for picking up the seven of _denari_.

They’d continue to play until one of them reached eleven points.

That, Angie had informed, could take a few rounds.

By the end of the first round, Peggy had forgotten about her slippery start: she was leading by two points. Peggy didn’t even try to hide the smug smirk on her face as she shuffled the deck next. Normally, a deck of cards she could shuffle without looking, but these… these cards were smaller than what she was used to.

Although Peggy could not actually see Angie, she could practically feel her fuming. Angie murmured something under her breath, something Peggy did not quite catch.

Not that it mattered.

“Shh, no talking,” Peggy hushed, looking up. Meeting Angie’s hard glare caused Peggy’s smirk to turn into a wide smile.

“Just deal,” Angie grumbled, finishing off her glass of schnapps.

“That’s probably not going to help you,” Peggy teased, gesturing towards the now empty glasses as she continued to shuffle.

“ _Deal_ ,” Angie repeated, more sternly.

“ _Shhh_.”

To her own dismay - and most certainly to Angie’s delight - Peggy’s smug smirk was immediately wiped away by the end of their second round, replaced with a mild scowl. Peggy fell behind by three points, bringing them neck-to-neck, both inching closer to the eleven points necessary to be proclaimed a winner.

The tables have turned.

“You were saying, English?” Angie taunted, rather gleefully.

But only slightly, perhaps.

Peggy could still salvage this.

She was still determined to win this match; she was going to beat Angie to those 11 points. That bottle of schnaps was going to have her name on it.

“ _Deal_ ,”  Peggy found herself grumbling, transfixed on the piece of scrap paper they were using to keep score.

Distracted by the tactics running through her mind, Peggy failed to notice that Angie took a bit longer to shuffle, a bit longer to deal out what would be their final round. She was too engrossed with her own strategies to realize how often Angie peeked over her hand to sneak a glance of Peggy, with her thin, small frown, and knitted eyebrows as she concentrated on earning points, on winning.

Angie had stumbled upon a small discovery: with every point Peggy managed to earn, she momentarily turned into a gleeful child, unable to keep a smile at bay, but it quickly turned back into a concentrating frown.

It was… endearing - had she been doing the same in their previous rounds?

When Angie threw down the precious seven of _denari_ , a move for which Nonna Martinelli would have immediately reprimanded her, Peggy sat a bit straighter. As she brought her hand of cards closer to inspect and calculate her next move, Angie realized what she had done.

Now there was a point on the line.

And Peggy wanted it.

After struggling a bit to recall its face value, she scooped up the ace of _coppe_ , along with that precious seven of _denari_ , with the _fonte_ that had been in her hand. Oh, and it would seem that Peggy had also cleared their playing field - a _scopa_.

Two points in one move, all due to a haphazard mistake.

All because Angie found herself distracted by-

"It's your turn, darling," Peggy teased.

"I'm _thinking_."

It took a few minutes more for their third round to come to an end. Peggy felt herself being watched very carefully as she counted the points she earned - naturally Angie, the seasoned pro, had already finished tallying up her own score. She took the scrap piece of paper from Peggy’s side. When Peggy looked up, satisfied with her count, she smirked faintly as Angie’s eyes narrowed at what was written.

“Are you double checking my maths?” she asked.

“Now why would I do such a thing?” Angie questioned in return, holding out her hand for Peggy’s pile of cards. “With this last round, I’m at 9 points, English - you ready for the final round?”

Peggy complied and handed them over. “I don’t believe that will be necessary, dear.”

Angie glanced down at the cards and back at Peggy. She tilted her head to the side slightly, “What are you saying?”

“I’m _saying_ ,” Peggy began with a sly grin. “That with that last round, I believe I’ve reached 11 points. I _win_.”

In immediate response, Angie, after double checking the score once again, went straight to recounting the points in the pile of cards Peggy had just handed to her.

“Perhaps, in the next game, you won’t be as distracted by your opponent as you were in this round.”

The shuffling in Angie’s hands came to a quick stop. She looked up at Peggy, in disbelief. Almost in betrayal - all those little faces, those little nuances. Peggy played her the entire time.

“So _that’s_ the type of player you are, huh, English?”

“Did you honestly expect anything less?”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t be surprised,” Angie agreed, finishing her recount. There had been no mistake. “And now I know for our next go.”

Peggy brought her half empty glass up to her lips and took a sip before saying, “So you’re up for another match then?”

“Now that I know who I’m up against, yes,” Angie replied, hoisting herself onto her knees. With the palm of her hand pressed against the hardwood floor next to Peggy’s thigh, Angie leaned forward, her lips hovering over Peggy’s. Inhaling sharply, Peggy could smell the sweet alcohol mixed with Angie’s fading perfume.

Angie plucked the glass from Peggy’s hand and placed it next to Angie’s own and the now empty bottle of schnapps.

“But first, I’m gonna show you what else _scopa_ means,” Angie added in a hushed tone.

“I’m fairly certain I’m going to enjoy--” Peggy began, but Angie leaned in just a bit more, just enough for their lips to meet in a sweet kiss.

**End**


End file.
